Regret
by Sayuri-2012
Summary: It s so easy to assume you have all the time in the world... then the unthinkable happens. (One shot)


**A/N This is just a one-shot. Life is too short. Just do it. No regrets. **

Regret

"Come on Daddy, it's freezing in here. Let's get you into bed and warm you up."

He didn't resist, but allowed his daughter to help him up out of the worn armchair and over to the bed. It had been moved downstairs a couple of years ago, after he had fallen once trying to get down the stairs and she had found him lying there, several hours later, unable to get up. He felt his body protesting at the change in position as he sank down onto the bed: everywhere seemed to ache lately, his physical pain echoing the mental anguish. Growing old was certainly no walk in the park.

He muttered a thank you to his daughter, incidentally the only one who bothered to visit lately, as she pulled the covers up over him, adding a thick blanket. He had lost a fair amount of weight recently and keenly felt the cold. She would often come round to make sure he was all right, bringing him groceries and reminding him about his doctor's appointments. She was the only person who ever visited. After his divorce many years ago now, he had never remarried and his other children had all moved around the country and were living their own lives. He had grandchildren, even great-grandchildren that he barely saw. His relationship with them was sadly mostly limited to a handful of photos and an occasional phone call.

He knew it was his own fault. He had allowed his sorrow and regrets to take over his life, shaping his whole future, changing him from a man with a purpose to one who was lost, angry and bitter. He knew how hard it must have been for his children to watch their father fall like that, but at the same time he had been unable to prevent it. He had tried to find things to be passionate about, things to lift his mood, but ultimately nothing had eased the pain caused when he had switched on the TV that day and realised with horror that not only had made the worst mistake of his life but that it was now tragically too late.

He remembered that afternoon clearly, as though it were yesterday. He had just got back from spending the morning watching his son play football. His team had won and Eli had been euphoric. They had all gone for ice cream after the match and even Kathy had been amicable for once. It had almost been like old times. He had been so caught up in things he hadn't even noticed the message coming in; her last one as it turned out.

He had gone home afterwards, kicked off his shoes, headed to the fridge and cracked a can of beer, then sunk down onto the sofa idly flicking through the channels. Then he had noticed the breaking news flash, which had interrupted the scheduled programming. He had watched in utter disbelief as the news crews inundated viewers with terrifying scenes of the aftermath, the presenters were obviously genuinely shocked beyond belief as they struggled to report on what they were seeing. He had watched in absolute horror as the familiar neighbourhood of the 1-6 had appeared, smoke billowing, the building in virtual ruins from the force of the bomb. He had immediately reached for his phone and called her, but the phone company had informed him her number was unavailable.

It was then he noticed the flashing icon informing him a message had arrived in his phone inbox. His hope had soared when he saw it was from her. She must have been out on a case and was messaging him to let him know she was safe, knowing he would worry when he heard the news of the bomb. His heart had sunk, however, when he noticed the time and he realised the message was several hours old. She had sent it that morning, while he had been at the match. He hadn't noticed at the time and so he hadn't replied. He decided he couldn't face reading it now. He needed to know she was OK. He would read it later. He had grabbed his coat and ran to his car. He had to go there and find out for himself if she was OK or not. _Please God let her have been out on a case._

He had felt his emotions start to overwhelm him as he drove. He had never been so thoroughly terrified in his life. He wasn't only scared for her, but for all the others in that building: his ex-colleagues, his friends. Who was he kidding though? It was the thought of her death that had him in this state. It was in that moment faced with the real possibility of actually losing her, that the realisation of just how much she actually meant to him hit her like a ton of bricks. It was like a vice to his chest. He wanted to throw up. She had to be OK. He needed her to be OK. He made the decision then, that he would no longer allow himself to avoid his feelings. He would tell her how he felt. Even if she didn't respond in the way he hoped, he needed to be honest with her.

As he had approached the building, it seemed even worse than it had on the TV, if that was even possible. He wasn't allowed beyond the police barricades that had been set up, so he could watch from a distance after body bag after body bag was brought out of the building. The shock and horror at such a mindless act of violence was numbing. The people in there had all been good people. They were trying to make the city a safer place. Did anyone deserve to die for that? It was impossible to comprehend.

He had known when he saw the devastation with his own eyes, that had she been in the building, chances were high she hadn't made it out alive. His only realistic hope was that she hadn't been in there, but it was 3pm on a Tuesday afternoon. He just knew.

Then he spotted him standing about ten metres away! Fin. Hopeful once again he raced towards him.

"Tell me she wasn't in there!" he pleaded desperately, before Fin could even open his mouth in greeting, but he just shook his head, his hollow, stunned expression radiating just how devastated he too was.

"Oh God, no" Elliot groaned. "Please no, Liv…"

"Cragen and Munch were in there too," Fin said in a detached tone.

"Maybe there were survivors?" Elliot said hopefully.

Fin didn't reply. Neither of them truly believed that.

It was then he reached into his pocket for his phone to read her message. As he clicked onto it to open it up, he felt a deep and profound sadness settle over him. The knowledge that he was probably about to read her last words to him, hit him hard.

_Hey, El. It's been a while since we talked. I was wondering if you were free some time this week. I need to tell you something and it's important. Liv x_

He was unable to hold his emotions back then and the tears fell freely down his face.

It had been confirmed, later proved by DNA identification, that she had died at her desk. His only comfort had been that it had been instant and she wouldn't even have known what was happening. It wasn't really all that much of a comfort though. His new reality now was that she was dead, gone forever and the thing that pained him the most was that he had never told her how he felt. Even though they had got back in touch and re-established their friendship, he had never properly apologised for the way he had just walked out of her life nor explained the real reason why: the fact that he was so completely in love with her and he couldn't face her disappointment.

He could only wonder at what she had wanted to tell him when she sent that message. On a relatively good day, he liked to believe she was going to tell him she felt the same way about him as he did about her and that they would have become more. On darker days he imagined she had planned to inform him she had found someone else. Not knowing was something he had learned he had to live with, but it had never ceased to tear him up inside whenever he thought of it.

He was dimly aware of Lizzie asking him something, but couldn't for the life of him recall what she had just said. He felt the familiar sensation of the tears pricking at his eyes, threatening to fall. He was never able to remember without getting emotional. He tried to block it all out, but it was always there to haunt him and slightest thing would send him back there to that ill-fated day.

He knew Lizzie knew more than she usually let on. She placed her arm on his gently and told him to take care of himself, but he knew she was also telling him she understood. It was a small comfort. Then she left. She was busy. He understood that. Anyway, he didn't mind, for tonight he wanted to be on his own. He wanted to remember the image of her face, her beautiful brown eyes, her perfect skin, her lips and the sensation of feeling her pressed close to him when he had wrapped his arms around her in one of their infrequent embraces. It was all so clear in his head, even now. There hadn't been a single day that had gone by that he hadn't thought of her... and that he hadn't cried.

He lay back against the pillow. He was so tired. He was tired of the pain in his joints and the pain in his heart. He coughed weakly. He had guessed a few days ago he likely had a chest infection but he hadn't mentioned it to Lizzie. He had struggled to breathe the night before and he imagined it would be a similar story tonight. He didn't have the energy to fight the inevitable any more. People had told him right after the bombing that with time the pain would fade and he would move on. But they had been wrong. He had carried the burden of his guilt and regret with him over the last forty years and he'd had enough. He was ready to let go. The thought of seeing her again was comforting and he felt an odd sense of peace settle over him. He knew in his heart that she was waiting for him and he was excited that finally he would see her again. It was his last thought as he closed his eyes.


End file.
